


All-Time Favorite

by mardia



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Imported, Jealousy, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-05
Updated: 2011-02-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 05:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7086991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What to do when your best friend suddenly starts making new friends. (Kirk/McCoy.) Written for <a href="http://everythingshiny.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://everythingshiny.livejournal.com/">everythingshiny</a> and <a href="http://xmaidelx.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://xmaidelx.livejournal.com/">xmaidelx</a> for the <a href="http://help-pakistan.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://help-pakistan.livejournal.com/">help_pakistan</a> auction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All-Time Favorite

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta [](http://kmousie.dreamwidth.org/profile)[kmousie](http://kmousie.dreamwidth.org/) for her help with this. And seriously, I can't believe how long this took to write, so sorry about that.

“Jesus,” Bones mutters, his head lolling against Jim’s pillow, “If I’d know Romulan ale was gonna make you this maudlin, I’d’ve never given you the stuff.”

“Shut up,” Jim says, batting half-heartedly at Bones’s shoulder. “I could drink you under the table if I wanted.”

Bones slowly turns his head to just _look_ at Jim, and yeah, okay, that’s really never gonna happen. So Jim just groans and says, “S’not my fault; we’re on a ship, you can’t expect my tolerance to be like it was in the Academy.”

“I don’t; doesn’t mean I expect you to g’on rambling about how this ship’s the shinest ship in the whole quadrant either—”

“Shh, baby, he doesn’t mean it,” Jim says loudly to the room at large, and Bones snorts in amusement. And really, he’s one to talk about the effects of Romulan ale, Jim can hear the Georgia coming out in Bones’s voice, the way his vowels are as slow and thick as honey.

But never mind that, Jim sits up on his elbows suddenly and goes back to the earlier conversation, insisting, because this is important, “But no, look, you know what I mean here, Bones, it’s not just the ship—although she is seriously awesome too—it’s the people, it’s everybody, I have the best crew ever, even _Cupcake_ is awesome and I used to _hate_ that guy—”

“Would sound a little bit more believable if you stopped referrin’ to him as Cupcake, Jim—”

“—and everyone on this crew is brilliant—”

“—it’s the flagship, we’re _expected_ t’be brilliant at our jobs; at this level, _mediocrity_ would be the real shocker—”

“—and I _rocked_ this diplomatic mission with Uhura, Bones, I really did,” Jim finishes, flopping back onto the bed. He turns to Bones, and he knows there’s a shit-eating, giddy sort of grin on his face right now, and hell if he’s going to try and restrain it, because he just got the Federation access to some of the biggest untapped dilithium deposits found in this quadrant of the galaxy and aided the process for a new planet to join the Federation.

He turns and finds that Bones is already looking at him, which makes it easier to say, “We’ve been on a roll, haven’t we, Bones.”

And for once, Bones doesn’t roll his eyes, or grump about how Jim’s jinxed them now that he’s said it out loud. He just says softly, “Yeah, Jim, we have.”

They have, that’s the thing—it’s not the alcohol that’s getting Jim to think this way. Their missions have been successful in every sense of the word. They’ve accomplished their objectives, and no one’s gotten hurt or injured—Jim doesn’t need to say that nobody’s been killed, because that’s something they’re both incredibly aware of, without ever needing to be told or reminded of.

“Sickbay’s been quiet without patients filling it up,” Bones is commenting now. “Could get used to it.”

“You sure?” Jim asks, turning to him with a grin. “I mean, we wouldn’t want you to get rusty, Bones.”

Bones actually tilts his head back and laughs. “Somehow, I’m not too worried about that, Jim.”

It’s nice, seeing Bones like this, smiling and relaxed. It’s nice getting to do this—getting to relax with his best friend, not needing to worry. Not needing to focus on the latest crisis, the latest disaster that needs to be averted.

He didn’t expect to like this part of the job—the days where there weren’t any crises, where everyone was alive and safe and left to do their normal jobs, where his job was to keep everything running smoothly. And yet, he kind of does.

Jim shifts so that he’s on his side, facing Bones. “I miss hanging out with you, Bones.”

Bones scoffs again, reaching out to tap Jim lightly on the head. “What the hell’re you talkin’ about, we see each other all the time. We’re seein’ each other _right now_ , moron.”

“But it’s not the _same_ ,” Jim whines, because it’s somehow important that Bones get this. “Not like it was at the Academy.”

Bones is quiet for a moment, his hand still resting on top of Jim’s head. From this close, and with this lighting, Bones’s eyes are very green, with only a few flecks of brown. “Things change, Jim. Doesn’t mean they aren’t good now.”

“Yeah,” Jim agrees, humming contentedly as Bones’s fingers start to move in his hair, rubbing at his scalp. They’ve always been fairly tactile with each other, but it always seems to—go up a notch when they’re drunk. Not that Jim minds.

“An’ sometimes,” Bones says, and his voice has gone quieter, “—sometimes even if things are good, they can still get better. Do you know what I mean?”

Jim’s eyes have drifted shut, and he slowly opens them to focus on Bones’s face, which—is a little closer than it was before, and his fingers have slowed down in Jim’s hair.

“I just don’t want anything to change, you know?” Jim says softly, going back to his point.

Bones looks at him for a moment, and then his mouth quirks up, and he says, “Nothing’s gonna change, Jim, don’t worry.”

Somehow, Jim feels like he’s almost—missed something, except then Bones’s talking about how they’re going to regret this so damn bad in the morning and Jim has to open his mouth to argue him down.

But of course, in the morning, Jim wakes up with his mouth tasting like a fungus, his head pounding, and light stabbing at his eyes. He clutches his head and moans pathetically until Bones finally takes pity on him and hands him an anti-hangover hypo. Bones, of course, looks totally fine—which probably means that he got to the anti-hangover hypo before Jim did, and probably got a cup of coffee while he was at it.

“You know,” Jim says, while he sips at his own cup of coffee, “I don’t even remember half of what we talked about last night.”

“Nothing important,” Bones says dismissively. “Just alcohol-induced rambling, and you still can’t hold your Romulan ale, by the way.”

“What are you saying, Bones, I totally rocked that stuff,” Jim insists with a grin, slurping at his coffee.

Bones just raises his eyebrow. “My used hypospray says different.”

*

“Computer,” Jim says a few nights later when he’s off duty, “—give me the location of Dr. McCoy.”

“Dr. McCoy is currently in Engineering Deck C,” the computer informs him placidly, and Jim blinks. He already knows Bones isn’t on duty, and his first thought is that somebody’s been injured—but when he asks if any emergencies have been reported, the computer confirms that nobody’s been injured.

“Huh,” Jim says out loud. Then, curious, decides to go and see what Bones is up to down in Engineering. Once he gets there, a cadet points him to Scotty’s office, and Jim walks to the door, which isn’t locked, and when the door slides open he finds—

Bones, sitting at a small table with Uhura and Scotty, playing cards—poker, it looks like. Or rather, supposedly playing poker, since all three of them are laughing too hard right now to be playing much of anything, let alone notice that he’s in the room.

Jim takes in the scene—the half-empty bottle of alcohol, the scattered cards, and Uhura’s face creased in a huge grin as she gasps out between giggles, “Oh my God, you’re _impossible—_ ” __  
  
“Hey,” Bones says, pointing a finger at her. He’s grinning just as wide though, laughter escaping him. “Hey, I _told_ you—”

“We’ve played _how_ many hands and that eyebrow is _still_ going every single—”

Scotty’s face is bright red from laughing so hard, and he waves his hands and says, “We’re going to need some adhesives in here, because clearly they have a mind of their own and can’t be controlled by natural means—” Uhura cracks up at this, ducking her head and clapping a hand over her face.

“Oh, shut up,” Bones mutters, although he’s still chuckling. “I’d wipe the floor with all of you at pool—”

“He really would,” Jim interjects, which is what finally gets their attention, all of them turning to him with bright, flushed faces. “Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all, Captain,” Scotty says easily. “We’re just trying to teach the good doctor here how to play poker.”

“ _Without_ indicating all over the place,” Uhura finishes. She shoots Bones a fondly amused look, and adds, “It’s not going so well.”

“He’s got so many tells he might as well be William Tell,” Scotty says helpfully, and Jim knows exactly what they’re talking about—the first and only time they’d played back at the Academy, Jim nearly cleaned out Bones’s checking account, and he hadn’t even been _trying_.

“I’m not _that_ bad,” Bones protests, but shuts up when Uhura breaks out laughing again and giggles, “Oh God, Leonard, you really, _really_ are.”

“Gotta agree with her on that one, Bones,” Jim says cheerfully, which causes Bones to roll his eyes and wave him off. “Well, I’ll leave you guys to it. Good luck trying to keep his eyebrows from moving,” Jims says, and turns to leave.

“You can join us,” Scotty offers. “We could use all the backup we can get, frankly, and you don’t need to roll your eyes at me, McCoy, those eyebrows have a life of their own, dammit—”

“Thanks, but another time,” Jim says, grinning. Joining them does sound like fun, honestly, but he’s already gauged how much he’d have to drink to catch up with them, and he’s got an early conference call with the Admiralty alongside Spock in the morning. “See you guys tomorrow. Good luck, Bones.”

“I’m gonna need it,” Bones replies as he leaves.

As the door shuts behind him, Jim can just barely hear the sound of Bones saying something, and the shout of laughter from Uhura and Scotty in response.

*

It takes a while before Jim notices the shift. But suddenly—or maybe it’s not sudden at all, maybe this has been happening for a while and this is the first that Jim’s really noticed.

It’s just that suddenly, Bones is—well, spending a lot of time with other people. If he’s not sitting with Uhura and Scotty in the mess hall during mealtimes, it’s Chapel and M’Benga, or other people from his medical staff. Once, Jim had come to breakfast a bit earlier than usual, and found Bones sitting with Chekov, listening to Chekov talk excitedly about—Jim’s not exactly sure what, he’d just seen Bones nodding along a lot.

It’s just—different, that’s all. Bones isn’t nearly as crotchety or grumpy as people like to insist he is, Jim’s known that from nearly the very beginning. But he’s not exactly a social butterfly either, except, all of a sudden, he apparently is.

But if he’s honest, it’s the cooking that really got Jim’s attention.

*

“Uh,” Jim says, intelligently.

He’d come down to the kitchens after getting comm’d by the Enterprise’s highly temperamental Head Chef, who’d been yelling about how his kitchens and his stores weren’t a free-for-all, that people couldn’t just come in and take whatever they wanted, senior staff or not—

So Jim had gone down to sort it out, finding Spock along the way—apparently Chef Waters had complained to more than one person—and now here they are, standing in the doorway to one of the kitchens, staring. Well, Jim’s definitely staring, Spock would probably describe his actions as ‘observing’—but then again, Jim thinks as he stares at Spock’s clenched fists—maybe not.

Bones and Uhura haven’t noticed them yet, they’re too busy puttering around the kitchen making—what the hell are they making? Whatever it is, it looks and smells delicious—and from the look on Bones’s face as Uhura feeds him, from her own hand, some of the food, it tastes just as delicious.

Jim clears his throat loudly. “Hi.”

Bones and Uhura look over at them, Bones saying casually, “Oh, hey, Jim, Spock.” Neither of them are pulling away guiltily, and really, why should they, this is clearly perfectly innocent, they’re just…cooking. Together. Cozily. Very cozily, to the point where Uhura’s hand-feeding him food.

“What are you two up to?” Jim asks.

“Oh, we’re trying to make some food for Scotty,” Uhura explains. “It’s his birthday in a week, and when I found out that Leonard could cook—”

“—she got the idea of giving Scotty a home—well, ship-cooked meal for a birthday dinner, made up of all his favorite foods.” Bones finishes. “Unfortunately, I’m still not sure about half these dishes—Tellarite pastries are not that easy to make, no matter what the cookbooks tell you.”

“Oh stop fussing, it’s fine,” Uhura says indulgently. “Spock, here, try this and tell Leonard that it tastes good.”

Spock obediently comes forward and Uhura feeds him a pastry, just the way she fed Bones, and if Jim didn’t know better, he’d swear he was seeing some of the tension leave Spock’s body as Uhura feeds him.

He chews thoughtfully, and then swallows. “The taste is quite pleasant. I did not know you were skilled in cooking, Dr. McCoy.”

“Bones has always been a good cook,” Jim interjects, and maybe it’s just him, but his voice sounds too loud to his ears.

Bones flicks his eyes up at that, but just says mildly, “Thanks for the compliment, Jim. Try some of the soup.”

Jim does, and it tastes delicious. He swallows, licks at his lips for a moment, and then asks quietly, feeling ridiculous but asking all the same, “Since when do you cook for the crew, Bones?”

Bones barely even glances up. “Scotty was talking about all the foods he missed from Earth, and it seemed like a nice thing to do for a friend.” He does glance up now, and asks, “Something wrong with that?”

“No, of course not,” Jim retorts immediately, defensive. There is nothing wrong with it, of course, it’s just—and as soon as the thought occurs to him he feels like an idiot—it’s just that Jim can’t ever remember Bones deliberately cooking for anyone who wasn’t him.

As far as Jim knew, he was pretty much the only one around who knew that Bones could be an excellent cook when he felt like it. And that was because, every once in a while—usually when Jim had had a especially long or difficult day, Bones would, without being asked, whip together a meal that seemed to have all of Jim’s favorites. And whenever Jim would try to thank him, Bones would brush it off, say that he was just cooking to relax, and it was Jim’s luck to be used as a guinea pig.

Jim’s never admitted this, but those meals are some of his best memories from the Academy.

And now Bones is cooking for Scotty. Jim would rather eat glass than admit it right now, but he’s feeling a little bit…jealous.

Or maybe more than a little bit, but Jim knows better than to admit it. So Jim samples the food, teases Bones a bit, and reminds him to clean all this up, before he leaves to smooth things over with the Head Chef.

The last view he has before he leaves is of Bones bent over the food, a smile on his face, with Uhura looking over his shoulder.

*

“So,” Jim says, during his latest chess game with Spock that’s turned into something of a regular tradition. “Bones and Uhura have been spending a lot of time together lately, huh.”

“Indeed,” Spock says, his gaze focused on the board. Jim looks at him, because c’mon, he was there when Spock’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head—okay, Vulcanly bugged out of his head, which means they twitched for about a microsecond—at the sight of Uhura and Bones all cozied up together in that kitchen.

Jim isn’t crazy enough to think something’s actually going on, and he knows Spock doesn’t think that either. It’s just—okay, so he’s feeling a little twitchy about the whole thing, even if he can’t pinpoint why.

“They have become good friends,” Spock says mildly. “Along with Mr. Scott.”

“Yeah,” Jim says. He’d made it to Scotty’s birthday dinner a few days back, and it had been a really good evening, fun and light-hearted, and the food had been delicious. And it had been really nice, seeing the delighted grin on Scotty’s face as he’d come in, the enthusiastic hugs he’d given Uhura and Bones.

Jim remembers that, the smiles on all their faces, the feeling he’d had watching them, and he groans, realizing exactly why he’s been feeling so…off. “Ugh,” he groans, and at Spock’s quizzical look, waves a hand and says, “Don’t mind me, I’m just a little moody tonight. It’s a human thing.”

“Yes,” Spock says, deadpan. “A trait I have had ample opportunity to observe. Also, I feel I must point out that you are currently in check.”

“Wait, what?” Jim asks, staring down at the chessboard.

*

Okay, here the thing, Jim is not _actually_ jealous. That would be ridiculous, not to mention small and petty, and also, it’d be really ridiculous.

Bones is his best friend. The fact that Bones is also becoming friends with Uhura and Scotty is no reason to feel…weird.

Whatever, Jim’s just feeling off because he and Bones haven’t been spending as much time together. He’ll just fix that, and everything will be sorted out again.

Easy.

*

Jim’s evening off with Bones goes really well, until it abruptly goes—not pear-shaped, just a little strange. Bones is recapping the latest mishap in Engineering—Jim had already gotten the full report from Medical, along from Engineering, but it’s fun seeing Bones ramp himself up about it, hands gesturing, eyes going wide as he recounts the insanity.

“So nearly all the injuries are minor—scrapes and burns, mostly, but practically everyone’s covered in foam, it looks like Sickbay’s been invaded by an army of snowmen, I swear—”

Jim’s lying back on Bones’s bed, grinning, but Bones is up and pacing—it’s the way he usually gets when deep into a story. Jim likes it, seeing all that energy, the expressions that flit across Bones’s face.

“So then Scotty and Keenser come in, both looking fit to beat the band, Scotty’s face is just beet-red, but before he can say a word, Keenser steps up and goes off on every single last one of them—“

“Wait, wait a minute,” Jim says, waving a hand and grinning. “I didn’t hear about this part— _Keenser_ told them off? Out loud?”

“Yeah,” Bones confirms. “He doesn’t normally use Standard that much, but he’ll make an exception when, as he put it, his engineers are acting like a bunch of idiots.” He stops pacing and laughs. “You know, I’ve heard my fair share of profanity, but Keenser’s got a special talent, I can’t even list half the languages he was ranting in—”

Jim’s chuckling now. “So what happened?”

“Well, after he’s finished ranting in the middle of my Sickbay, he goes and stomps off, all of us staring after him in shock. And there’s Scotty, gaping just as much as the rest of us, but after a second he turns to us and says—” Bones clears his throat and does a passable impression of Scotty’s accent, “ ‘An’ let that be a lesson to the lot of you!’

Jim bursts out into laughter. “That’s _awesome_ ,” he says, laughing still.

Bones is grinning now too. “Yeah, Scotty’s decided he’s going to have Keenser be the one to enforce discipline down in Engineering from now on—says it’s good for morale or something.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Jim agrees. He looks at Bones for a moment, and then says, not even sure of why he’s bringing it up, “You and Scotty and Uhura have gotten really close lately.”

“Yeah,” Bones says, glancing over at him as he moves to sit in a chair. “We have.”

“That’s…new,” Jim says.

Bones looks at him for a second longer, and then says, “Yeah, well, new things can be good.” He turns to Jim and smirks. “And it’s nice having people to commiserate with when you and Spock go off on one of your half-cocked plans.”

“Hey, I resent that,” Jim says, mock-serious. “Our plans are fully-cocked, thank you.”

Bones raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, go and pull the other one, Jim. You’re forgetting how well I know you.”

“Nah, I could never forget that,” Jim says, and it’s a casual comment, and it’s also _true_ , he doesn’t know why Bones looks sharply at him when he says it.

“Well…good then,” Bones says, his eyes flickering back down so Jim can’t see them, all he can see is the sweep of Bones’ eyelashes over his cheekbones.

Jim looks at him for a moment longer, and then says, “Big mission coming up.”

“That’s fine,” Bones says, relaxing in his seat. “Just as long as I don’t have to wear my dress uniform.”

“Aw, come on, Bones, you look good in it.”

Bones just raises an eyebrow. “I know I look good,” he retorts, to Jim’s delight and surprise, “—I’m saying I don’t want to wear the damn thing.”

“Too bad,” Jim replies cheerfully. “You’re stuck with it, Bones.”

Bones makes a face.

*

As it turns out, Bones only ends up having to wear the dress uniform at one very long dinner to celebrate the joining of the Quimar people to the Federation, and then he, like most of the crew, are on what amounts to a week of shore leave, while Jim and Spock continue to wine and dine with the planet’s top government officials and royal family.

Of course, Jim has to wear the dress uniform the whole time, and yes, the collar chafes on him as much as it does on everybody else.

But the whole thing goes smoothly. Jim and Spock say all the right things, behave as graciously and correctly as they know how, as they’ve been taught how, and Jim doesn’t think he’s flattering himself when he says that it’s going well.

But the fact that it is going so well means there aren’t many opportunities for Jim to go off-duty. So he doesn’t get to find out what Bones has been up to until he runs into him in the corridor off the transporter room of the Enterprise, when Jim’s headed back to the planet and Bones is coming back from it.

When Bones turns the corner and runs into him, Jim can’t help it, he just stares.

“You got an allergy to buttons there, Bones?” he manages once his tongue unsticks from the roof of his mouth.

Bones glances down, unconcerned, to where his button-down shirt gapes to about halfway down his chest, but actually doesn’t make any effort to button up. “No need to be formal when you’re on the beach.”

But Jim’s attention’s elsewhere now. “Bones, are those _freckles_?” he asks.

Bones rubs at his face. “Yeah, it happens when I’m out in the sun for a while. I was out at the beach with Nyota and Scotty.”

“No need to rub it in,” Jim says. “You know how much I’ve seen of the beaches this week?”

“Aw, is it tough being captain?” Bones teases, and Jim looks at him, his face tanned and freckled, eyes crinkling, and—

It’s just an odd moment, looking at him like that, seeing him look so different. “Well,” Jim says, because he can’t think of anything else to say, “—have fun waiting for those tan lines to disappear.”

To Jim’s surprise, and fascination, there’s a blush appearing now beneath Bones’s tan and freckles. “Uh. That’s not exactly going to be a problem.” At Jim’s blank look, Bones sighs and says, “Jim. They’re nudist beaches. No clothes, no tan lines.”

Jim knows what his response should be—a wink and a leer, mock surprise—but all he can do is stare, dumb with shock, and then finally squawk, “Seriously? How the hell—seriously, _you_ went to a—”

“I’m not a prude, Jim,” Bones replies. “I got invited, and when I got there everybody else was already naked, so I went and followed local customs, like a good Starfleet officer should.”

“Now you’re just fucking with me,” Jim accuses.

Bones chuckles at him. “Maybe a little, but it’s really not a big deal, Jim.”

He’s right, and it’s not as if Jim hasn’t done far wilder things himself. But—that’s him, not Bones. At least not normally.

“Right,” he finally manages. “Well, I’ve gotta get back down—”

“Yeah, of course,” Bones says. “See you when you get back.”

“Right, see you then,” Jim agrees, distractedly, but even after Bones has made his way down the corridor, it still takes Jim an extra second or two to start moving again.

*

Okay, Jim still maintains he’s not actually _jealous_ , because he isn’t. It’s—much as he might not want to admit it, it’s throwing him off. All of it’s throwing him off—Bones spending so much time with other people, Bones cooking for other people, Bones lying _naked_ on the beach with other—okay, okay, it really is throwing him off.

Something’s changing. He’s not sure what, he’s not sure why, but it is, and Jim’s not sure he likes it.

*

Once the mission’s been brought to a successful close, the Enterprise goes out into space again, and they all go back into their usual routines. Except that Jim makes a point of spending time with Bones now, just the two of them. Bones never turns him down, never says he’s too busy or too tired.

But it’s still different now, just a little bit. He finds himself talking less with Bones and there are these moments now—moments where he catches himself looking at the way Bones’ hair sweeps over his forehead, or at the curve of his mouth when he’s smiling.

“What are you thinking about?” Bones asks once. “You look lost in thought.”

Jim shakes his head and smiles. “Nothing, Bones.”

*

Back at the Academy, Jim heard every wild variation of stories about Starfleet missions gone wrong. He’s heard about wild orgies in the name of diplomacy, about mysterious sex pollen, about mysterious gadgets changing the sex of crewmembers. Jim had always laughed and not paid them too much mind, thinking that it was just a crazy bunch of stories told by people who had never been up there to begin with.

He’s not really laughing right now.

“The Criverans want us to do what now?” Jim asks, as politely and as quietly as he can, given that their hosts have excellent hearing—ears that size’ll generally accomplish that—and while their grasp of Standard is limited, they’re also very good at interpreting emotion.

Uhura says, just as quietly, but with far more patience, “As a token of goodwill, the Criverans would like to see you, as our acknowledged leader, participate in a…bonding ceremony with another member of your crew.”

“They want me to get hitched,” Jim says.

Uhura waves her hands impatiently. “Not hitched—it’s hard to translate the nuances, but their idea of bonding ceremony is much broader than that, honestly. It’s…it’s like taking an oath of loyalty, making a public gesture of commitment.”

“That still sounds a lot like a wedding, Uhura,” Jim retorts.

“It’s not a declaration of romantic love,” Uhura says sharply. “At least it doesn’t have to be—it can be entirely platonic. The point is to show your trustworthiness as a leader, and as the representative of the Federation and Starfleet.”

Jim’s not sold, but at this point, he can’t really see a way out of it. “Okay, so what would I have to do in this….not-wedding?”

“The two of you hold hands, declare your commitment to each other, make a few gestures, and that’s it,” Uhura says.

Jim lets out a sigh. “All right, fine. He glances around the large hall, and sees Bones in conversation with Scotty and one of the Criverans. As he watches, Bones tips his head back and laughs, his teeth flashing.

“Tell them I’ll do it,” Jim says, and heads over to where Bones is.

Bones’ reaction, once he understands what he’s being asked to do, is not what Jim was hoping for.

“No,” he says flatly, staring at them in disbelief. “No, are you— _no_. Absolutely not.”

“So that’s a no, then?” Uhura asks blandly, her mouth twitching.

“Bones, c’mon, it’s not that big of a—”

“Uh, yes it is,” Bones replies, with a look like he can’t believe either of them. “It’s a wedding, or close enough to one, anyway, and I’ve already had one of those, I’m not looking for another one—”

“Bones,” Jim starts, unsure of how to work with this. He can deal with Bones when he’s grumbling or cranky, but on the rare occasions when he’s genuinely pissed off—

And judging from his flat voice and set face, Bones is getting close, if not there already.

Uhura glances between them, and then says delicately, “I’ll let you two discuss it.” As she walks away, she briefly lays a hand on Bones’ shoulder before leaving.

Jim waits until she walks away, and then turns to Bones and asks softly, “Bones, what’s really the problem here? It won’t be legal or recognized by the Federation—”

“Yeah, because that’s the part of it that I’m worried about,” Bones mutters, which grabs Jim’s attention.

“So what part of it are you worried about, then?” Jim demands. He can feel himself starting to get a little bit worked up about this and it’s stupid, but he wasn’t expecting Bones to flat out refuse like this.

It’s thrown him.

“The part where it’s a wedding is causing some red flags to go up, I gotta admit,” Bones snaps back. “Look, Jim, just—just find somebody else. Spock, Sulu, hell, even Chekov would probably—”

“Would you do it if it was Uhura or Scotty?” Jim retorts.

“That’s not the same, it wouldn’t _matter_ if it was—” Bones shuts his mouth and looks furious at himself, but it’s too late, Jim’s ears are already burning.

“Wait, what?”

Bones doesn’t say anything for the longest moment, biting at his lip, and then says, with a sigh. “I don’t want to do this ceremony because it’d be with you. Not that you’re some kind of leper, I just—oh, fuck me,” he mutters, rubbing at his face.

“Bones, just spit it out already,” Jim demands, his heart pounding.

Bones looks at him, and then says. “Fine. The reason I don’t want to do this is because I have feelings for you that I’ve been trying to get over, and standing up there and declaring my—undying devotion is really not gonna help.”

Jim can’t speak. He can barely even breathe, or blink, for God’s sake. At last he manages a tiny, “What? What are you—Bones, what—”

“What I’m saying,” Bones grits out, with more than a hint of irritation in his voice, “is that I have been crazy stupid about you for a long-ass time, and I figured it was about time I stopped, okay?”

“And you never told me?”

“Obviously not,” Bones says, gesturing at him. “And judging from the look on your face, either you’re blind or I’m much better at hiding things than I realized.”

“Bones,” Jim interrupts, still stunned. “Bones, why the hell didn’t you say something?”

“Because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship by asking for something I knew I wasn’t going to get,” Bones replies, as if it’s obvious. “You’re my best friend, Jim, I didn’t want to risk that.”

He doesn’t look upset or angry anymore, just tired, looking at Jim with eyes that are patient and a little sad.

“So, under the circumstances, I think you can understand why it’d be better if we didn’t—”

“You could just ask me out, you know,” Jim interrupts, his mouth moving independently from his brain.

Bones stops talking and just stares at him. “I—excuse me?”

“Ask me out on a date,” Jim says.

Bones looks at him, and then says slowly, “So I can get turned down?”

“So I can say yes,” Jim says, because that should be really obvious. “And then—I don’t know. We can see where it goes from there.”

Bones stares at him for a little bit longer, and then says, slowly, “Jim, I know you’re—trying to be kind, and I appreciate that, but I really don’t think—”

“It’s not kindness,” Jim says. “Bones—the one person I wanted to do this ceremony with is you. You’re the first person I thought of. And—I don’t know. Change can be good, right?”

Bones doesn’t reply at first, but there’s finally the slow beginning of a smile starting around the corners of his mouth. “Yeah,” he agrees. “It can be.”


End file.
